


who knows how long i've been awake

by graceless_wolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, also probably the MOst overdone trope, keep in mind that i haven't even see 3b yet, this is all hypothesis based but i couldnt resist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 07:28:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graceless_wolf/pseuds/graceless_wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts when Derek comes back. </p><p>It starts when Stiles is losing his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	who knows how long i've been awake

It starts when Derek comes back.

 

It starts when Stiles is losing his mind.

 

It starts because Stiles is having panic attacks and nightmares all at once, and Derek was never any good about staying away from Stiles when he needed help. It starts when Derek checks in on Stiles on night to see him convulsing in bed.

 

Derek holds him through the night and when Stiles wakes up, bleary-eyed and still tired, he looks at Derek and says, “Real or not real?”

 

“What?” Derek replies.

 

“It’s something Scott, Allison, Lydia, and I have started doing,” Stiles says, stretching out, feline, still in Derek’s arms. “It’s from the Hunger Games.”

 

He smiles sleepily at the blank look on Derek’s face. “It’s a book series. One of the characters – Peeta – loses his mind. He and the other characters play this game where he asks them if something he’s thinking is real, or if it’s a hallucination.”

 

Derek still looks a little confused, so Stiles keeps going, “It’s dumb, I know, but it helps. We’re all going crazy here, anyways, so-,”

 

“Real,” Derek says, cutting him off.

 

“What?” says Stiles.

 

“You asked,” Derek says, “I’m answering.” His arms tighten involuntarily around Stiles. “Real.”

 

Stiles smiles then, small and happy and something loosens in Derek’s chest. He rests against the pillows in the circle of Derek’s arms. It’s not awkward in the way it should be because they’re _pack_ and impromptu cuddling was sort of a thing with them now that Derek was back.

 

There’s a moment as Stiles is falling back to sleep, when Sheriff Stilinski nudges open the door to check on his son. Derek goes ultra-still, but the Sheriff just rolls his eyes.

 

“How’d he sleep?” he asks, and it takes Derek a moment to respond because _what._

“Uh, not so good,” Derek admits, hesitating, “better after I got here?”

 

There’s a pause, and the Sheriff’s shoulders relax slightly. “Good,” he says, “he’s still underage and I own three guns, two of which are in this house, but, that’s good.”

 

Derek nods wordlessly, and the Sheriff turns and walks out.

 

Stiles smiles and Derek smacks him.

 

\--

 

After that, it becomes this _thing._

 

The others still take part, but not as frequently as Derek and Stiles. They’re sitting together in Derek’s new apartment one day when Stiles starts trembling. Derek wraps a hand around his shoulder and Stiles squeezes his eyes shut. Scott is hovering further back, so as not to lose any control. Allison is hesitant on Stiles’ other side and Lydia is getting cool water and a blanket.

 

“There are five people in this room, real or not real?” Stiles begins.

 

“Real,” Derek returns, just as quickly. This is how they talk Stiles down, this is what helps.

 

“None of them know my actual first name, real or not real?”

 

“Not real,” says Lydia, before any of them can respond. They all – excluding Stiles – stare at her, and she shrugs. “Guys, we’re a pack, a _family,_ and you’re telling me none of you used the internet to find out Stilinski’s real name?”

 

There’s a murmur of assent because she is right, but Stiles is still shaking, so it really isn’t their main focus.

 

“Scott and I once rode grocery store carts down the hill on Drake Street just to see if we could and I hit a stop sign and he lost his last two baby teeth in the eighth grade, real or not real?”

 

Derek stares at him.

 

“Real,” says Scott.

 

Derek stares at _him._

Stiles laughs.

 

They all look at him.

 

\--

 

Derek starts reading to Stiles because Stiles can’t. They lie in Stiles’ bed; curl up on the window seat in the apartment like cats; lounge in the green grass of the park near Blossom Avenue, the sounds of mothers and their young children in the background.

 

Stiles likes to recline between Derek’s legs and rest his head against his chest. He’ll close his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at the pages. Derek reads him bestiaries and, once he’s gotten through Deaton’s entire collection of those, The Hobbit.

 

“I like the way you read,” Stiles says one day. They’re in the window seat of the loft, and Stiles is people watching out of the bay window.

 

Derek lifts an eyebrow, and Stiles grins, “You’re good with voices. You have a good grasp of characters.” There’s a pause, and Stiles says, “You should write a book.”

 

Derek chuckles, closing the book and burying his face in Stiles’ hair - he smells like cinnamon, cloves, peaches, and Derek, which really shouldn’t surprise him, considering how much time they’ve been spending together, but it still makes his heart beat a little faster.

 

“I’ll make you a deal,” he decides, “You write the book, and I’ll make an audio copy.”

 

Stiles gives him a look, “How exactly am I going to write a book, Derek? I can’t exactly-,” he gestures to the book on the ground, and his voice breaks as it trails off.

 

Derek takes his hand out of the air and presses it to his own face, dropping a kiss along Stiles’ wrist. Stiles looks at him, eyes blown wide, wordless.

 

“It’s not going to be like this forever, Stiles,” he says softly, “We’re going to figure this out.”

 

Stiles nods, “We?”

 

“We.” Derek repeats.

 

He picks the book up off the ground and starts reading again.

 

\--

 

It’s five am and Stiles voice is pitched higher with panic.

 

Derek is holding him tightly on Stiles’ bed and the Sheriff is sitting in front of them.

 

“I ate glue when I was six,” Stiles breathes into Derek’s neck.

 

“Real,” they both say. The sheriff raises an eyebrow and Derek shrugs. It really wasn’t that hard to figure.

 

“I’m afraid of really weird things like needles and big bugs.”

 

“Real,” Derek says.

 

“Aw, fuck, needles,” Stiles hisses, fingers tightening on Derek’s arm.

 

“Shh, shh,” Derek soothes, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ temple, “It’s okay. You’re here, Stiles, you’re right here and so am I, and we’re gonna be okay.”

 

“Scott and Allison are going to get married.”

 

The Sheriff snorts, “Real.”

 

Derek smiles, and Stiles’ trembling stutters and slows down.

 

“I used to wear my mom’s clothes and make-up to school until some kid beat me up,” Stiles says.

 

“Positive things, Stiles,” the Sheriff sighs, “but yes, real.”

 

(Derek is suddenly fueled with hatred for a kid he doesn’t even know.)

 

“Jackson is safe and alive and a werewolf in London and it would make a great sitcom,” Stiles says.

 

Derek swallows and says “Real,” at the same time that the Sheriff says, “What?”

 

He sighs and mutters something like “I should’ve known,” and they move on. Derek makes a promise to explain everything to the Sheriff tomorrow.

 

“The pack is going to get a huge house someday and Scott and Allison are going to have puppies and Danny’s gonna have his own tech room,” Stiles says, and he sounds a lot more relaxed now, settled in his own head.

 

Derek makes a happy rumbling noise from somewhere in his chest, painfully aware of the Sheriff’s presence when his arms tighten around Stiles. “Real,” he says, and he _wants_ it; _wants_ this life that Stiles is painting for him, but he knows it will probably never happen.

 

“Gods, Stiles, if we ever figure this thing out,” he says quietly, “if we ever get rid of these damned stop signs in our life, I promise you that’ll be real; you and me and the pack and one big house. I’ll even let you and Lydia do the decorating.”

 

The Sheriff is looking at him with some mixture of shock and approval, but all of Derek’s focus is on Stiles.

 

Stiles smiles, “You said life.”

 

Derek stares at him.

 

“Instead of ‘in our lives,’” Stiles explains sleepily, “You said ‘in our life,’ singular.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Derek says, “You sort of have this habit of getting into places you shouldn’t be and staying there, Stiles.”

 

The Sheriff snorts, “Real.”

 

\--

 

Stiles falls asleep like that, curled up in Derek’s lap, and the Sheriff leaves after a bit.

 

“Be good to him,” he says as he leaves.

 

“I’m doing my best,” Derek says, and it’s as true as he can get.

 

“I know, kid,” the Sheriff says, “I know.”

 

\--

 

When Stiles wakes up, he blinks once, then twice, and Derek can see each piece of last night hitting him.

 

“Hey,” he says, and Derek smiles.

 

“Hey.”

 

Stiles looks at him, eyes narrowing slightly, “You love me, real or not real?”

 

Derek is laughing as he reels Stiles in to kiss him on the mouth.

 

“Real.”

**Author's Note:**

> as always, im on tumblr @cptnkirrk


End file.
